


let's go green (together)

by notsowearypilgrim



Series: the tinsel series [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Gen, Human Baby Yoda, SOFT SPACE DAD who isn't actually in space but the point stands, but i needed a soft fic so maybe it'll be okay, cop duo din and cara, just go ahead and make a dentist appt before u read this, this is v soft and i am uneasy about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23438428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsowearypilgrim/pseuds/notsowearypilgrim
Summary: “If you had told me a year ago -““Shut up.”“ - that you would be dragging me around a nursery because your daughter -““Shut up.”“ - blinked her big brown eyes at you and asked what you’re doing for Arbor Day, I would have laughed in your face.”Din sighs, and drops another bag of potting soil onto the flat-bed cart. Cara smirks at him, unrepentant from behind her sunglasses.“Have you ever tried to tell her no?”
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Winta (Star Wars), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Omera (Star Wars)
Series: the tinsel series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679791
Comments: 21
Kudos: 203





	let's go green (together)

**Author's Note:**

> HEY. If you haven't read it, my Christmas fic in this series is back up! Go show it some love, and come find me on tumblr!

“If you had told me a year ago -“

“Shut up.”

“ - that you would be dragging me around a nursery because your daughter -“

“Shut _up_.”

“ - blinked her big brown eyes at you and asked what you’re doing for Arbor Day, I would have laughed in your face.”

Din sighs, and drops another bag of potting soil onto the flat-bed cart. Cara smirks at him, unrepentant from behind her sunglasses.

“Have _you_ ever tried to tell her no?”

“She’s never asked me for so much as an ice cream cone,” Cara smugly informs him. “There’s no point, because that little girl knows perfectly well that you’ll give her whatever she wants. Why would she ever have to ask anyone else for anything?”

She’s got him, and she knows it; Din grumbles under his breath as he surveys the different colors of mulch.

“In her defense though, she probably just wanted to plant a tree like most people. I doubt an entire landscaping overhaul was what she had in mind.”

“It needed to be done anyway,” he says defensively. “I won’t get what the house is worth unless it looks like someone cares about it.”

Curb appeal wasn’t exactly on his list of priorities when he bought the house; it had two bedrooms, one bathroom and a coat closet that was big enough for a stroller. In the frantic upheaval of suddenly adopting a baby and thus having to cater his entire life to Mateo’s needs, the basics were satisfactory. The scraggly flower beds and stained kitchen linoleum were easy to overlook.

Just over a year later though, he realizes that selling the house will be a lot more difficult if he leaves it like he found it.

“Does Omera know you’re gonna put it on the market?”

Cara has lost her teasing grin. He knows it’ll come back in about five minutes. But he appreciates the chance to talk it over.

“I haven’t said anything. But we’ve discussed it, and her house is the one with enough bedrooms.”

His partner hums thoughtfully while he selects some white geraniums and a small hoard of pansies.

“When are you guys gonna get married?”

He almost drops the terra-cotta planters right there on the concrete floor. Once they’re safely on the cart he gives Cara a sharp glare.

“We haven’t discussed that.”

He receives a flat look from over her sunglasses that tells him she isn’t convinced.

“As much,” he admits. “We talked about it after her work party at New Year’s.”

“That’s all?” Cara exclaims loudly.

“ _Yes_ ,” Din hisses. “It’s not like we’ve been together for years, Dune. I’ve only known them for a year and Omera and I have only been dating since right before Christmas.”

It’s silent for a long moment while Din pretends to consult his list and ignore the way he can feel Cara scrutinizing him. After a few minutes she sighs.

“I think what you really mean is, _they’ve_ only known _you_ for a year and you don’t think four months is long enough for Omera to discover a reason to leave you.”

His eyes don’t leave the scrap of paper in his hand. He swallows thickly and still doesn’t look up even when Cara reaches over to slap his arm gently (for her, anyway).

“Din, the woman has allowed - encouraged, even - her daughter to call you her _dad_. That’s not the behavior of a woman who is still in the trial period.”

“Well, maybe she should be.” It comes out before he can stop himself.

Cara grabs his jaw in a grip that’s rough with determination. She makes him meet her eyes with a fierce scowl twisting her mouth.

“You listen to me, Din Djarin,” she snaps. “You lived your whole life alone until that sweet kid dropped into your lap. So I get this is all new to you, and you’re entitled to a freak out. But I’ve got news for you: you’re a great dad and you’re gonna make an equally great husband.”

“You don’t - “ he tries to object but she shakes him, actually shakes him. Like a dog.

“Shut up, I wasn’t done.” She takes a deep breath. “A lesser man would have fobbed Mateo off on someone else, but you didn’t. And a lesser man wouldn’t have let a nine year old dictate how he decorated his Christmas tree, but you did. And a lesser man wouldn’t spend a week researching romantic comedies in an effort to make his girlfriend feel like the luckiest woman in the world. But you did. You’ve got plenty to offer, you colossal idiot, and so help me if you don’t accept that I’ll drag you to the gym and _beat it_ into you. Got it?”

His face is all mushed like a fish, but he blinks down at her anyway. “Yes ma’am.”

She releases him roughly but pats him on the shoulder with more affection than irritation.

Massaging his sore jaw, Din glances at her warily. “I have no idea why you decided to become a cop. You’re clearly supposed to be a motivational speaker.”

“I know, right?”

/

Omera hates the eye doctor.

Not, like, as a _person_. He’s a very nice man and even Winta is at ease at her yearly checkups. It’s more the idea of someone getting so much in her face that puts Omera on edge.

But her last pair of contacts tore over the weekend and her glasses are expired to the point where wearing them gives her a headache. So she got a last minute appointment and arranged to leave work early, only she had to wait an hour and a half for her appointment so now she’s entering her empty house as it’s almost time for supper.

_Kids with me, working in backyard. Don’t worry about dinner. Lasagna in your oven, hope you’re okay with eating over here. -Din_

She smiles at the military yet sweet note stuck to the dishwasher and heads upstairs to change - where she smiles again at the bouquet of flowers left on her vanity. He must have picked them up while he was out with Cara earlier. She gives them an appreciative sniff on her way by.

Once she’s appropriately dressed for yard work, she heads across the street to Din’s. As she comes up the driveway, her steps slow.

He might be in the back of the house right now, but Omera sees glaring signs that Din has been busy all over today. She stares at the rose bushes tidily lined up alongside the corner where the garage meets the front porch.

A cheerful gurgle snaps her attention to the small section of the backyard she can see through the open gate of the privacy fence; Mateo is stood in front of her and is pointing at her while grinning and jabbering excitedly.

“Hey baby.” She smiles and kisses his soft cheek once he’s in her arms. Two chubby hands pat her own face with exuberant affection.

“Hey,” a gentle reprimand has Mateo blinking uncertainly. “Remember, like we practiced. Gentle.”

Mateo grins at his father and then frowns in concentration, bringing his hands up and down in a hilariously exaggerated attempt at following directions. Omera can’t help but giggle; she reaches up and takes one hand so she can kiss it.

“Very good, Mateo.”

He squeals happily, and Omera smiles first at him and then at his father as the latter comes closer. “Hey.”

He kisses her, brief but sweet. “Hey. How’d the optometrist go?”

“Oh, the same. My new glasses will be here next week. I’ve got a trial pair of contacts in the meantime.”

“Good.” He starts to head back to work, but she catches his arm and reaches up for another kiss that’s considerably deeper and lengthier. He blinks down at her with a grin. “What was that for?”

“My flowers. Thank you.”

“You’re absolutely right, Winta,” Cara says loudly from nearby. “They _are_ gross.”

“Then don’t watch,” Din retorts, but releases his hold on Omera so Winta can come hug her.

“Hey, sweetie. How was school?”

“It was fine. Carlos taught me a bad word in Spanish! Cara laughed when I asked Daddy if he ever said it.”

“Yes she did,” Din mutters, sending his partner a dark look. Cara shrugs.

“I see.” Omera carefully doesn’t pick a side in that battle. “Well, you just listen to what your dad teaches you, okay? If he says you shouldn’t say a certain word then you need to respect that.”

“I will,” Winta nods eagerly. “I was just telling you ‘cause Cara thought it was really funny.”

“It was,” Cara grins, and only gives a half-hearted groan when Mateo squeals and reaches for her. Winta follows, and Omera watches for a moment as the trio wanders over to the swing set.

“You’ve gotten a lot done today,” she ventures after a few minutes. Where there was only blank grass this morning, now neat flowerbeds line the edges. 

Din hums in agreement, setting the bag of mulch upright. “Cara was a lot of help at the nursery, and here too. Even watched Mateo by herself while I went and got Winta after school.”

“She’s as soft for them as you are.”

“Yeah,” he grins, wipes his forehead on his arm. “She’s better at hiding it, though. Drives me nuts.”

Omera giggles. “You two are honestly like siblings. I feel the need to ask if you behaved yourselves at the nursery today.”

She gets a deep chuckle for that. “We did, for the most part. Only argued once.”

“Over the rose bushes or the azaleas?”

“You, actually.”

That brings her laughter to a stuttered halt; she blinks up at him and tries to determine if he’s kidding. “Wh - me? I thought she liked me?”

“She does,” he assures her, taking her hand. “C’mere, I need to talk to you.”

Swallowing the sudden onset of worried questions, Omera lets him lead her back around to the front porch. They sit on the steps and he spends several long minutes just looking at their joined hands.

Finally, right as she’s about to ask him what’s wrong, he speaks.

“Our argument wasn’t so much about you as it was about how I’ve been treating you lately.”

Omera frowns. “I don’t have a problem with how you’ve been treating me lately.”

“I know,” he assures her. “You would have said something. But today I realized that I was trying to have it two different ways.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know you’ve been...well, curious, and maybe even a little frustrated that our conversation at New Year’s hasn’t gone anywhere. But you haven’t pushed me once, and even though I know it was just because you wanted to respect my boundaries when I’m so new to all of this, somehow I convinced myself that you weren’t so sure of what you wanted.”

She inhaled sharply, her heart twisting at the very thought. “No, Din - “

“I know,” he says quickly. “I know, babe. That’s what I mean, though. I was trying to keep my distance in case you changed your mind but I was trying to do it without making you feel like I’d changed mine.”

Omera can only squeeze his hand.

“That’s why I’ve done all this,” he gestures to the flower beds and the new rocking chairs he’s put on the porch.

“You’re trying to sell the house,” she suddenly realizes.

“Yes.” Din’s eyes are fathomless and honest as they look into her own. “I know we talked about your house being the better option. It has more rooms and I don’t care one way or another where we live.”

Omera reaches up with her other hand to stroke his cheek. “We’d love for you to live with us.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to make an appearance. “Good. There’s just one problem, though.”

“What’s that?”

Retrieving something from the pocket of his filthy jeans, Din uncurls his fist and Omera gasps.

“Whose name is gonna be on the mailbox?”

She can only stare at the glittering ring sitting in the middle of his palm. The sight quickly goes blurry as her eyes brim with tears.

A gentle finger comes to lift one shining drop from her cheek.

“You keep crying whenever I tell you things that should make you happy,” he says with a rueful grin.

“I’m not _crying_ ,” Omera sniffs as dignified as she can. “I had my pupils dilated, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

Several more minutes lapse while she alternates staring at the ring or at him. Finally he clears his throat.

“Not that I’m trying to rush you or anything, but I don’t think I’m supposed to put this on your finger until you’ve answered my question.”

Omera is so happy she thinks her body might fly apart at the seams from the sheer cosmic force of it.

“You didn’t ask me a question.”

“Sure I did.”

“Not a question that would result in that going on my finger.”

He concedes with another smile; his free hand cups the side of her face.

“Will you marry me?”

Omera matches his gesture, combing her fingertips up into his hair.

“Absolutely.”

Din kisses her in the warm sunshine of a spring afternoon; his hand that’s holding the ring is fisted on her back as he tugs her closer. She whimpers when he releases her just as suddenly.

“I gotta do this now or I’ll drop it and I’ll never find it again,” he mutters, taking her hand while she giggles.

She sobers, watching him thread the gold circle onto her finger. He kisses the back of her hand when he’s finished, and she beams at him before taking her first good look at the ring itself.

“It’s gorgeous,” she says softly. “You have really good taste.”

“It was my mother’s.”

Her mouth drops open. “Din -“

“If that’s weird to you, it won’t hurt my feelings,” he says quickly. “I promise. It’s just - that’s the last time I remember being happy. After they died I was just...content, at best. Miserable at worst. And then I found Mateo, and then I found you and Winta. And now I’m so happy it’s almost stupid. So. If you want, we’ll go pick out a ring that you like and it won’t bother me at all.”

Omera’s throat is too tight to say anything. So she just reaches up to kiss him again.

And judging by the way Din nearly pulls her into his lap, he understands.

He pulls away again, rather abruptly. “Just so we’re clear,” he says firmly, “it can be your name on the mailbox, it doesn’t have to be mine. Or if you want to use both of ours for the kids - or if you wanted to hyphenate, we can just get a really big mailbox, that’s fine with me - “

She laughs until her stomach hurts, which brings the others searching curiously for the source of her mirth.

“Ugh,” Cara complains when they come around the corner just in time to see Din kiss Omera again. “Do you guys _ever_ stop kissing?”

Winta giggles. “It’s gross!”

“Yeah, I know. C’mere, _mijita_.” Din holds out his hands for Mateo. “Your mom and I have something to tell you.”

Once the four of them are huddled on the steps with Cara leaning against the porch railing, Din clears his throat.

“What do you think about your mom and me getting married?”

Winta’s eyes go huge; she gasps and squeals a bunch of sounds that Din thankfully interprets as approval, especially when she hugs him so tightly around the neck that he grunts. But he’s grinning broadly - and once he looks up into his father’s face Mateo squeals, not having to understand anything to be happy about it.

“Mama, did he give you a ring? Is it really pretty? Can I see it? Can I?”

Smiling, Omera holds her hand out. Winta takes it in both of hers and gushes for several minutes over how pretty it is. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Cara punch Din in the shoulder.

“Does this mean I get to be your best man?”

Din snorts. “Well you’re not gonna be my maid of honor.”

“Who’s gonna be your maid of honor, Mama?”

Omera brushes some stray wisps of hair back from her daughter’s face. “You are, of course.”

Winta’s sweet face goes wide and round with shock. “Me? But I don’t know how.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Cara reassures her. “I’ve never done it either. We’ll figure it out together, okay?”

“That’s right,” Omera soothes. “You just help me with my wedding stuff, and Cara will help Daddy.”

“Da-da.”

Every one of them freezes - none more so than Din, who is staring down at his lap like Mateo is a live grenade instead of a baby.

“It’s not - “ Din swallows. “He didn’t….it was just baby noises.”

“Wanna bet?” Cara leans forward, and catches Mateo’s eye. “Hey chubs. Who’s this?” She taps one finger on Din’s sternum.

Mateo smiles, catching on that he’s performing. “Da-da!”

Din makes a choked noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a sob; he brushes one hand across his son’s head.

“That’s right, _mijito_ ,” he says roughly.

“Who’s this?” Winta pats Omera’s shoulder eagerly.

Mateo frowns, concentrating. “Mmm!”

“That’s a start,” Cara laughs, but even her smile is a little wobbly as Mateo returns his attention to his father, patting his face with both hands and cooing.

They spend the next fifteen minutes getting Mateo to demonstrate his new skill. By the time he loses interest, Omera is smiling so widely her face hurts.

“Can we plant our tree now?” Winta suddenly says.

Din huffs in amusement. “Sure.”

When they all stand to follow Winta to the backyard, he stops them. “It’s at your house.”

“We’re planting it in our backyard?” Winta says excitedly.

“Yes,” Din says. Winta squeals and hugs him again, and he laughs. “Well, it didn’t make much sense to plant a tree together and then leave it behind when we move.”

“Can it go near my bedroom window?”

“Next year’s tree can,” he promises as they set off across the street. “This one will grow really big, so in a few years when it’s strong enough we might be able to put a swing in it for you to play on.”

Winta wholeheartedly approves of this plan; she and Cara spend the entire walk discussing the merits of a treehouse. Omera slides her hand into his free one, and looks up to see him hiding a wide smile in Mateo’s hair.

The expression doesn’t leave as they plant the little sapling in the backyard. Din helps Winta carefully arrange the potting soil around the roots and supervises as she waters it.

It’s a proud little tree, standing there in the dusk while its baby leaves flutter in the breeze. Omera hugs Winta close and smiles at Din.

“It’s our tree, Mama. Our family’s tree.”

“Yes,” she replies softly. “It is.”

Once it’s too dark to see, they all crowd inside to wash the dirt off their hands and feast on homemade lasagna. Omera smiles every time her ring catches the light, and Cara squeezes her shoulder as they’re setting the table.

It isn’t until Cara takes both kids and disappears to the living room that Omera and Din have another moment to themselves. She doesn’t really plan on taking advantage of it too much, but she’s no sooner turned the water on to wash the dishes when Din comes up close behind her.

One arm reaches past and turns the water off again.

She smiles.

His hands take firm hold of her hips and turn her around; she doesn’t even have time to appreciate how her left hand now looks splayed across his chest before he’s kissing her.

Several minutes later he lets her up for air. His laugh is just as breathless as her own, and he takes one of her hands in his, wordlessly tugging her to follow him outside.

Her back deck is rickety and old. They giggle like teenagers as they try to avoid the worst of the creaky spots, but eventually they make it to the yard and he pulls her towards their new tree.

“What is it?”

He pulls out his phone and shines the flashlight onto the slender trunk; Omera peers closely in the dark and gasps.

“I’m telling Cara.”

“You are _not_ ,” he retorts and turns the flashlight back off. “She’ll see it on her own eventually, and that’s bad enough.”

“Din,” she coaxes, pressing herself close in his arms. “Don’t you want your coworkers to know you’re the kind of guy who carves his and his fiancée’s initials into a tree?”

Instead of a teasing reply, he runs hand from her brow all the way to the ends of her hair. “My fiancée,” he repeats quietly.

Omera smiles into his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you.” He leans to kiss her again but is stopped by the house’s rear floodlights being switched on and a voice booming from the deck.

“If you think I’m gonna sit through Frozen again while you two suck face -“

“ _All right_ ,” Din shouts back, grumbling even as Omera snickers into his chest. “Insufferable woman. I’m about to make Kuiil my best man just to spite her.”

“Cara,” Omera calls gleefully, ignoring Din’s frantic whispers to not say anything. “Come see what Din gave me as an early wedding present.”

**Author's Note:**

> for Space Mom.


End file.
